A Bowl of Wine
by Zallah
Summary: A certain special day for Brutus, somewhere in the year preceding the conspiracy, with reference to Plato's Laws.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Brutus and Cassius belong . . . well, in this case, as much to history as to Shakespeare. _Laws_ belongs to Plato (for the curious, the section referenced is 666a-c).

Note: In the ancient world, wine was often mixed with water before drinking - diluted from the state in which it was stored. Technically this practice was more Greek than Roman (Romans had their own set of things they did to wine), but I have retained it here for `dramatic reasons'.

* * *

There had been at least a couple dozen well-wishers in the Senate, several more in the street and a tremendous horde of them at home, but though Brutus had sat next to Cassius during the Senate meeting they had spoken only upon generalities or, for a wonder, the matters that day in hand before the Senate, and afterwards Cassius had begged off Brutus' company claiming he had other business to attend to. Brutus was not precisely hurt but somewhat disappointed that Cassius had made himself so scarce and said no word at all of felicitations or even acknowledgement for Brutus' birthday. The remainder of the day was therefore spent in the midst of a crowd of friends and acquaintances commending him upon attaining the nice, round age of forty, all of which he endured with patience though perhaps something less of joy than the occasion warranted.

When the last of the guests had taken himself off, Brutus ordered Lucius to bring him some wine and retreated to his library in search of equilibrium. He had decided, characteristically, in favour of philosophy but had not yet settled upon an author - though he was spitefully inclining to Catius whom he knew Cassius loathed - when the man himself entered, wholly unannounced. `Many happy returns upon this momentous day!' Cassius declared. `Though I fear I am a couple hours late in that regard, for which I crave your pardon, but I did not wish to come improperly supplied,' whereupon he produced from within the folds of his cloak a wineskin which he set down with a slight flourish upon the table before Brutus. `From the consulship of Cottas and Torquatus, so half your age, but a good year, which is more than can be said for Cinna and Carbo. At least with respect to grapes,' he amended with a grin.

Brutus, privately grateful to Cassius for noting the day after all and the more so for doing it personally - alone, rather than together with the innumerable multitudes - was nonetheless not entirely past his pique, which had been nursed throughout a tedious day of nigh endless cries of `Happy birthday!' His imperfectly gracious response, therefore, was to inquire how Cassius had gotten in.

`The boy Lucius admitted me. He would have gone to inform you, but I told him that you were expecting me and he said that you were in here . . . not that that was necessary.' Cassius appeared to be enjoying himself.

`I wasn't - ' Brutus began, a trifle warmly.

`No,' Cassius sighed, looking now somewhat put out, `you would not have been expecting me, of course. Still, perhaps hoping, just a little?' Brutus made no answer. `Well, in any case, try the wine,' Cassius suggested, gesturing to the skin.

Brutus, more to gain thinking space than to humour Cassius, unstoppered the flask and gave the contents a sniff. They struck him as slightly odd though he could not immediately place the reason; he looked across at Cassius who gave him an encouraging nod. Brutus drank. His eyes bulged and it was only the combination of rigorously ingrained manners and consideration for the three or four scrolls scattered about the table before him that compelled him to swallow the wine rather than spew it back out.

`Good gods, Cassius! It's unmixed!'

In response to which, Cassius dropped his despondent façade and dissolved into helpless laughter. Brutus watched him, astounded by his present antics, and the hint of a smile inspired by Cassius' mirth began to form on his mouth. After a few moments, Cassius had regained sufficient breath to gasp out, `Oh, come now, it isn't anything as bad as that! It's just the surprise. Have another swallow.'

`Have you already had some?' Brutus asked, his eyes narrowing as Cassius succumbed to another fit of laughter.

`Some,' Cassius conceded. `A little. Not very much. We Epicureans like to do things in moderation.'

`Are you implying . . . ?'

`Quite.' Cassius had regained control of himself. `Now, you're an Academic, or the next thing to it at any rate.'

`I follow the teachings of Antiochus, who derived - '

`Just so. Going back to the founder, and all that. Therefore you will, of course, be familiar with Plato's _Laws_.'

`Did you have a particular section in mind?'

`You remember about the three choruses and how old men are more self-conscious about singing? No? Well, a lot of that part was rather ridiculous anyway, but this bit was fairly lucid. Older men, you see, are permitted to partake of wine in order to reduce their growing inhibitions against singing. Because the young are plenty daring anyway, boys up to eighteen are not to be allowed to imbibe wine at all. Similarly, men above the age of eighteen are permitted to drink wine in moderation. Men aged forty and older, finally, can become totally sloshed. Congratulations, therefore: you are now of an age at which, by your own philosophy, you may get thoroughly drunk!'


End file.
